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Talk:Nova/@comment-24917038-20150428074720/@comment-25065826-20150428193420
I stay still and keep looking at the movement for a few seconds. Tall, hooded, and pulling something small from his or her pockets - I'm sure it's a person now. And looks like they want to hurt me, and I don't need body language training to know that. So, fight or flight? Well, because I don't know who this is, if they are a mutant, friend or foe, I decide to- They've just started sprinting at me. Holding the small object in their hand, a small white light comes from it. Now or never. I spring upwards, fumbling in the thin branches above me for my backpack strap. There. But suddenly, pulled from my grip by an entangled branch. I grab onto the actual bag and forcefully pull the branch down, untangling my bag. Finally. Now, how do I get down from this tree quickly? Never mind. The figure, I'm pretty sure male, is a few metres from the trunk. Grinning, I can see his mouth in the light of his light emitting... Thing. I can't jump fast enough! How do I- Ah. Gravity. I pull my centre of gravity about 20 metres from the tree and fly off, in a semi-controlled manner, to the point on the ground. The guy laughs behind me, seemingly jovial, and sprints after me. I gain my balance and start sprinting myself. I know I can't fight whoever it is. I can outspeed them though. Well, I hope so. I'm terrified. He can't touch me. In the near-complete darkness, I run blindly, feeling grass whip against my lower legs as I run for my life, hearing the occasional rush of wind in my ears. I can only hear my heart in my ears, and my rushing breath. I risk a glance over my shoulder, and- Holy sh- The guy is a few metres behind me, sprinting at me faster than humanly possible, his breath getting lighter and more of a laugh. Oh fu- I've stopped running, in awe now. And the impact of him colliding with me flings me through the air. I land barely on my feet and block two punches coming from the air in front of me. I try aiming a kick to his face, but his face is no-where to be hit and a foot swings into my ankle, sending me to the floor. And then there's a hand on me, constricting my throat, my pulse straining against his hand. My scar flares up in pain, and I writhe around on the ground. "I think that'll do for that one." He says, seemingly to himself. No. No, it's not him, no, no, no... "Stay still!" He hisses, tightening on my throat even more. He taps at something in the air, and the light has gone, leaving only the natural, deep blue light from the sky. I think it's a phone he's holding. "Right, that'll do. Well, guess who we have here", he says. I hate his voice, him, and his name- "Niamh! Glad to meet you again, finally! Don't mind me, I'm just sending this video online. Chill for a sec." I try screaming for help, but a strangled sound gurgles from my throat and I just end up with less air in my lungs, unable to breath in. "Shut UP!" He shouts. Pauses for a second. "So, what do we have here? In this lovely backpack?" He pulls out a knife and with his free hand stabs at the shoulder straps of my bag, deliberately meeting my shoulder with the blade. Slicing through my muscle and sending me into hell. "Oooh, a few nice knives! You any good with them? And a bit of food, and make-up?" He looks at me. "Oooh, sneaky bitch. You tried to hide, didn't you? Well, it worked a treat!" I kick at him, spiralling into panic, and his hand feels like it's reaching though my muscle, skin, bone, crushing the bone at the back of my neck, breaking it. Like my brothers, his broke. And suddenly, a thud. The hand loosens and twists my head towards the sound. It's a body. Small, fragile and with a- "Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh!" It's him, my brother, his body, he's dead, and- I don't know what's happening any more. "So, what are you thinking of doing, Niamh?" The living one says. "Blowing up somewhere else? It's good to know that someone hates you almost as much as I do, to frame you like that... Makes me smile." "What are you scared of, Niamh? Can I help you?" He asks. No, no, stop, please... The fingers around my neck change shape against my skin, turning more narrow and... pointy... He drills them into my neck. Into my scar, scraping through layers of skin. "I think I've found another photo opportunity, you know, Niamh!" He lifts the object - a phone - and takes a photo of me. I try looking defiant. In response, he lifts his hood over his head and- His head turns into Tom's, but bruised, shattered, craters in places where his skull looks crushed, and with a smile extended by deep cuts going up his cheeks, horrifyingly like The Joker. And then, he gets a more terrified picture of my face. "I think that'll do, don't you think?" he says. He lifts my bag over his shoulder, and stands, but sighs. "Oh, I forgot to put on 'location services!" He taps a few times on the screen of his phone, kneels back down and resends the photo's, giving his current location with his hand still grasping my neck. "One more?" He asks. He lets go of my neck, and pushes my body onto its side, stands back, and takes a photo of me lying, facing away from the camera. And then, "Bye Niamh! See you soon! Lovely to see you!" And the darkness of the sky and me are suddenly alone. He didn't have a power! He took out contact lenses in front of my face! But now I know. Michael has a power. And I'm absolutely terrified. I shake on the ground, crying and screaming, until darkness takes over and my wounds numb for a few hours of sleep.